Always Yours
by Sophie929
Summary: "I, Mary Lennox, take you, Dickon Sowerby, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." Eden Lamb is haunted of the memories by Mary Lennox and she doesn't know why. Could it be she really is mad, or is something more... impossible as a second chance?
1. Prologue

Prologue

1918

In all honesty, if she didn't have to say anything, she wouldn't have said anything at all. She would have just taken what money she has and ran away with Dickon, but she loves her uncle too and it would pain her to betray him in such a way, after everything he's done for her.

This is what she has to do.

She gave the door three good sturdy knocks before she heard a voice greet them in a strong familiar elderly tone. "Come in," it said and from that moment she knew there was no turning back.

Mary closed her eyes, taking her last deep breath, holding it in and refusing to release it as she opened the door and step into the study. "Uncle," Mary greeted him, trying to look as casual as possible. She found her Uncle Archibald busying himself, stamping letters and signing forms, but once he saw it was his beloved niece to visit him, he eagerly set his work aside, gesturing to the chair in front of him.

"Mary," he smiled, "Please have a seat."

She did, sitting upright and uncomfortable, while tightening her fists into a ball. Her whole world was rocking slowing side to side, making her feel dizzy and sea sick, but she kept her composure.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Immediately she got to the point, seeing no reason to delay the subject. "I wanted to speak with you about who I should marry."

"Yes! I heard Charles Igor proposed to you. Congratulations, my dear. He will make a fantastic husband," he announced with joy, returning back to his work, but this only made Mary's heart catch fire with anger and an old familiar passion to be heard. He wasn't listening to her.

Raising her voice half an octave higher, she leaned forward and said, "No, I've rejected Mr. Igor, but I did accept another proposal."

"Another?" Archibald asked, "I don't recall another man asking for my blessing."

Mary's heart dropped. Dickon didn't ask for Archibald's blessing and it doesn't exactly make the best first impression. It's not the way things are done, but then again, Mary and Dickon's relationship are not the way things are done.

Mary hesitated with the words which were nonexistent. She had an idea of what she wanted to say and how to say it, but it was like her mouth spoke in another tongue, so all that came out was silence. Suddenly she realized she hadn't been breathing and a heavy, imploding feeling in her chest weighed her down. "Dickon," she admitted quietly. She spoke as if it were a confession to a priest and her gaze soften in fear.

Anyone else could say what they wanted; believe what they wanted to believe, but her Uncle… She always had a strange desire to please him, to make him proud, like a daughter would for her father. She couldn't stand the very thought of her Uncle disappointed with her, but she loves Dickon too much to leave him now, just so she be who her Uncle wants her to be.

"Dickon asked for my hand," Mary whispered. Instantly his head shot up, so his gaze was once again meeting hers. He gave her a surprised and almost hurt expression. She swallowed. The saliva was thick and dry in her mouth. She could feel her eyes become hot and moist as she continued, whispering, "and I said yes."

Leaning back into his chair Archibald rested his knuckles to his lips, as if considering what to do next, as if waiting for her to say anything else. Finally he took a deep breath, leaning forward again like he was trying to get a better look into her eyes. "This doesn't happen to be the same Dickon Sowerby we all know and love, is it? The Yorkshire boy of the moore, who I would have expected him to come to me personally and ask for my blessing if he did ask you to marry him, that Dickon Sowerby?"

Mary nodded her head, a tear falling from her cheek. She whispered, Archibald barely catching it, "...yes."

Archibald ran his hand through his hair as he sighed thoughtfully. His eyes were soft and Mary was thankful for it, because it means he wasn't angry. She would have broke if he was angry with her. "Mary, he's just a gardener."

"I love him," she sobbed silently, choking between words, "I- I love him… more than I can bear." Tears continued down her cheeks as she sobbed, "I didn't plan for it, neither of us had, but it happened and I'm sorry Uncle. I'm so sorry."

Archibald stared at her with both love and pity. He moved from behind his desk, reaching out for her hand and eagerly she reached for it back until they were both hand in hand. He smiled as he pushed some hair away from her crying face. "My sweet," he whispered back, smiling at her with what Mary felt was acceptance. "It is neither of your faults. I know firsthand, how complicated love is and how strong the bond can be made."

Mary finally let go of her breath, and the heavy feeling lifted from her chest. She hugged her Uncle tightly and he hugged her just as tightly back. She had never loved her Uncle more than she loved him today.

"I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me," he whispered into her ear.

She pushed him away, stunned by what he said, unprepared for what would happen next.

It started with a loud _BANG!_ Dickon was brought in by Charles himself, on his feet and Dickon was tied up and gagged. Charles forced Dickon to move further into the room, proudly as he held the struggling gardener while Mary watched utterly horrified and shocked. It was all too much to process, but once Mary found herself again, she curled her fists together and moved to run at them screaming, "LET HIM GO!"

But before she can reach them she was pushed to the ground, her head slamming against the cold, hard wood floors. Dickon screamed something, angry and wild, but the cloth he was choking on, made it sound like a loud painful groan. Slightly dazed she realized it was Colin who had attacked her, keeping her restrained to the ground. Colin said, "Calm yourself, Mary. This is for your own good."

She had no idea what he was talking about until she heard a couple of _clicks!_ and she looked up and saw her uncle pointing a gun at Dickon's head. Time had stopped for a moment and tears continued down her cheeks, her eyes wide and wild, "Uncle please," she tried to say as calmly and slowly as possible, but she's too distracted by the danger her love is in. "If you love me, you won't do this. Please Uncle. You can't."

"I'm sorry, Mary," her Uncle says as if he was talking to a child, "but I do this because I love you."

He turned his attention toward Dickon again and the barrow of his revolver turned and clicked. Mary kept shaking her head, trying to push Colin off of her. Mary screams, "NO!" and her Uncle pulled the trigger.

…

"NO!" Mary screamed. She sat up quickly, sweat dripping from her face and all over her skin. She looked around, trying to remember where she was once she realized she wasn't in her uncle's study anymore. She was in the garden and she wasn't alone.

Dickon sat up, absolutely shocked by the deathly wail. Once he saw it was Mary who screamed he reached for her immediately, caressing her face with one hand and stroking her bare back with the other. He kissed her shoulder and looked at her with concern. "Sssshhhh," he spoke lovingly in her ear, "It was just a dream. It's alright. I'm here. I'm here. Nothing will hurt thee while I'm here." He stated that last part while folding her into his arms.

Mary turned her watery gaze, while biting her lip. Having no idea that it was he, who was… She shook her head. She didn't want to think it. She didn't want to ever remember it. Why couldn't this be one of those dreams you instantly forget? Why did she have to remember this one? She whimpered sadly, pulling her naked body closer to his, under the blanket. The moon light looming over them and the beauty of the garden was all around them. She cried into his neck, wrapping an arm around his shoulder protectively.

Dickon stunned, pulled her closer to him, "Mary? Mary what is it? What's happened?"

She didn't say anything. She just continued to hold onto him as if her life depended on it and cried silently into him.

She promised herself, _No one will hurt him while I was around. No one._

...

97 years later, December 19th, 2015

The lightning cracks and I wake up, finding myself on my bedroom desk.

 _Just a dream_ , I think as I pull a sheet of paper off my face.

My alarm clock is ringing. I really hate my alarm clock. It may be winter break but I still need to wake up. "My name is Eden Lamb," I say just like I was instructed to do by my doctor, "not Mary Lennox."

 _Where I came up with a name like that? I'm not sure, but what I am sure is that she is a fiction. A figment of my very active imagination._

 _She isn't real_ , I keep trying to remind myself. _She isn't real._

And as I do that it somehow lulls me back to sleep where, against my will, I dream more about the girl named Mary Lennox and the boy Dickon Sowerby and the Secret Garden.

 _..._

 _review, please!_


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

2015

"God Dammit, E!"

I turned and realized it was Lyla who shouted. She was holding the first draft of my dream journal, and was entirely invested into it. "This Dickon Sowerby is so hot!" she continued and immediately I could tell exactly where she was. She was at the part after Mary and Dickon got married. It was their first night together.

 _Mary continued to kiss him as if she'd never have another chance to do so again. It was even more exciting because they were wedded in secret. Or at least Mary thought so. Dickon was saddened by the idea and wished they could have done things properly but how can they do things properly if they weren't proper to begin with._

 _Dickon, who was kissing Mary with the same urgency, slowly pulled down the sleeves of her dress and opened the front. He thanked God that dresses were becoming too easy to take off as he quickly moved to his suspenders and began to pull them down._

" _Here," said Mary as she pulled away and sat on a small table behind her. She began to lift up the bottom of her skirts and notice the look of insanity Dickon had as he watched and waited patiently for his new wife prepare herself... just for him. Mary smiled when she heard Dickon whisper something, his hands moving to his face in a maddening sort of way. She didn't hear what he said, but she had an idea. "Come to me, my love."_

 _He didn't hesitate. Dickon moved toward her and undid the zipper of his pants. He let his hands roll over her exposed thighs as he moved them toward her behind. Mary was flushed, as she realized he was touching in a place no one had ever touched before. Dickon's eyes moved to Mary's as he pulled her closer to him and lifted her up._

 _Her legs were wrapped around his waist as she was carefully carried to the bed._

 _Colin had once said she didn't belong in a tiny, poorly built cottage, but as Dickon slowly placed her on the cushion and aligned himself exactly, she realized he couldn't have been more wrong. Mary couldn't think of a better place to be with her new husband, than a small cottage, at least a mile away from their neighbors. It was sooo perfect. No one to interrupt them. No one to bother them. It was just Dickon and her and it was perfect._

 _Dickon leaned down and began nuzzling at her neck and as he did this, Mary realized Dickon was much better at this that she, and it made her wonder. "Dickon?" she whispered._

" _Mmn?" he mumbled into her neck as a response. It was more of a noise but Mary understood it._

" _Have you…?" she struggled to find her words, "Have you- Ah!" She couldn't speak, let alone think while Dickon did that. She didn't want to stop, but she needed to know before they did anything. In fact it should have been a question she should have asked before they got married, but really, it wouldn't have made a difference. Mary would have married him even if Dickon had a… a past. She pushed at his chest and immediately he stopped, quickly meeting her gaze. "What is it?" he asked frantically. Glancing over her he had a look of horror wash over his clear blue eyes, "I didn't hurt tha?"_

" _No!" Mary said quickly as she moved to cover her eyes embarrassed._

" _Then what is it?" he asked carefully. He was confused, he assumed things were going well. Very well. Mary just continued to grow red with embarrassment as a sudden realization hit the young gardener, but he prayed to God he was wrong. "If tha's no' ready, Mary… we donna hav' to-"_

" _Oh no!" Mary exclaimed, cradling her new husband's face with both hands, "I love this, but…"_

 _Dickon touched her face, barely brushing his fingers against her cheeks as she, once again, struggled to find the words. "Wat' is it?"_

 _She dropped both hands and took a deep breath, now avoiding his intense gaze all together, "I was wondering… well…" Dickon took her hand in his and supportively gave it a squeeze. "Have you-?" she laughed, trying to ease away her nervousness, "Have you… ever… laid with another woman before?"_

 _Now that Dickon knew what this was about, he began to chuckle and it made Mary feel even more embarrassed. Dickon began to kiss her again as he showed her his relief. He only briefly stopped kissing her to answer, "No," and went back to her lips._

 _Mary smiled into his kisses as she couldn't help but ask, as they smooched, "Have you… have you ever… loved anyone before me?"_

 _Dickon pulled away and looked over her with new and exposed eyes. They were moist and Mary could feel her eyes moisten too as he answered, "Never."_

For some reason, it's that dream I remember the most. I remember Dickon's smile and immediately I knew he wasn't lying. "I wish _I_ had dreams like that!" Lyla continued as she finally pulled away from the loose pages and looked at me, completely satisfied, but it was short lived and immediately replaced with shock, "E! Are you crying?"

Shocked, I touched my face and sure enough, my cheeks were wet. What the hell is wrong with me? "No," I say, shaking my head and wiping my face with my sleeve. "C'mon," my voice cracking as I take the papers out of her procession. I shove them mindlessly into my backpack and turn toward the door. "We're gonna be late for work."

…

 _review, please!_


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